Читать книгу Falling for King's Fortune / Seduction, Westmoreland Style - Maureen Child, Brenda Jackson - Страница 10

Three

Jackson looked across the table at the woman he was planning to marry and felt the slightest buzz of interest for her. But compared to what he had felt for his mystery woman, it was the voltage of a double A battery alongside the frenzied energy of a nuclear power plant.

He’d assumed that whatever attraction there was between them would grow with time. Hadn’t happened yet though and he was forced again to remember the instant chemical reaction between he and Casey Whoever during their one night together. And what kind of statement was it that he’d had a better time with a perfect stranger than he was having with the woman he was expected to propose to? Images of Casey smiling, Casey naked, reaching for him, filled his mind and despite everything, Jackson felt his body burn and his chest tighten.

His mystery woman.

What had she been after?

She’d deliberately seduced him. Gone out of her way to entice him, then disappeared without a backward look. Who did that? And why?

If he didn’t get answers soon, he was going to go nuts.

“My father says you’re interested in the airstrip in upstate New York,” Marian said, snapping Jackson’s focus back to her.

As it should be. Didn’t he have the damned engagement ring in his pocket? Wasn’t he planning on proposing tonight? He had plans for his life and they didn’t include mystery women, so best for him to get on with this.

“Yes, it’s big enough for several flights a day and I’ve already worked out a new schedule with my pilots,” he said, lifting his coffee cup for a sip. Dinner was over and there was only dessert left on the table. Naturally, Marian would no more eat the chocolate mousse she’d ordered than she would dance naked on the tabletop.

If there was one thing Jackson had learned about the woman over the last couple of months, it was that she was far more interested in how things looked than how things really were. She was painfully thin and ate almost nothing whenever they went out. And yet, she always ordered heartily, then spent her time pushing the food around on her plate with her fork.

His mystery woman, he recalled, had had curves. A body designed to allow a man to sink into her softness, cradle himself in her warmth.

Damn it.

Marian was watching him through calm brown eyes. Her dark brown hair was tucked into a knot on the back of her neck and her long-sleeved, high-necked black dress made her look even thinner and less approachable than usual. Why was he suddenly looking at Marian with different eyes?

And why couldn’t he stop?

The small velvet box in the pocket of his suit coat felt as if it were on fire. Its presence was a constant reminder of what he was there to do and yet, he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to ask the question Marian was no doubt waiting to hear.

When he felt the vibration of his cell phone, Jackson reached for it gratefully. “Sorry,” he said. “Business.”

She nodded and Jackson glanced at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but flipped the phone open anyway and said, “Jackson King.”

“This is Casey.”

His heart jumped in his chest. Even if she hadn’t identified herself, he would have recognized that voice. He’d been hearing it in his sleep for days. But how the hell had she gotten this number? A question for another time. He shot a quick look at Marian, watching him, then keeping his own voice low and level, he said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Now’s your chance,” she said and he heard the hesitation in her tone. “I’m at Drake’s coffee shop on Pacific Coast Highway.”

“I know the place.”

“We need to talk. How soon can you get here?”

Jackson looked at Marian again and felt a small stab of relief at being able to escape this dinner and avoid asking the question he’d come there to ask. “Give me a half hour.”

“Fine.” She hung up instantly.

Jackson closed his phone, tucked it into his pocket and looked at the woman opposite him.

“Trouble?” she asked.

“A bit,” he said, grateful she wasn’t going to demand explanations. No doubt she was used to her father bolting out of dinners to take care of business. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out the money required for the bill and a hefty tip. Then he stood up and asked, “I’ll take you home first.”

“Not necessary,” she said, lifting her coffee cup for a sip. “I’ll finish my coffee and get myself home.”

That didn’t set well. Bad enough he was leaving her to go meet another woman. The least he could do was see her home. But Marian had a mind of her own.

“Don’t be foolish, Jackson. I’m perfectly capable of calling a cab. Go. Take care of business.”

He shouldn’t have felt relief, but he did. Another small tidal wave of it splashing through him. “All right then. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She nodded, but he’d already turned to weave his way through the diners seated at linen-draped tables. He hardly noticed his surroundings. His mind was already fixed on the coming meeting. He would finally see his mystery woman again. Finally discover just what she’d been up to when she’d come onto him. He’d find out if she’d been protected during their night together.

And if she played her cards right, maybe the two of them could share another night of amazing sex.

Forty-five minutes later, he was parked outside Drake’s. The place was practically an institution in this part of California. Around for more than fifty years, Drake’s was cheap, the food was good and they never closed.

A far cry from the quiet dignity of the restaurant he’d just left, when Jackson pulled the door to Drake’s open, he was met by a cacophony of sound. Conversations, laughter, a baby’s cry. Silverware being jangled into trays and the crash of dirty plates swept into buckets by harried busboys. The overhead lighting was bright to the point of glaring and the hostess, inspecting her nail polish, looked just as bright when she spotted Jackson.

He hardly noticed though. Instead, his gaze swept over the booths and tables until he found the person he was looking for. Blond hair, pale cheeks, and blue eyes focused on him.

“Thanks,” he said, walking past the hostess, “I found my table.”

Walking down the crowded, narrow aisle between booths, he kept his gaze locked with Casey’s and tried to read the emotions flashing one after the other across her features. But there were too many and they changed too quickly.

His gut fisted. Something was definitely up.

Tonight, she wasn’t dressed to seduce. Tonight, she wore a pale green, long-sleeved T-shirt and her short hair was mussed, as if she’d been running her fingers through it. She wore small silver stars in her ears and was chewing at her bottom lip.

Nerves?

She should be nervous, he told himself. He had a few things to say to her and he doubted she was going to like many of them. But damn, just looking at her made him hot and hard again. She had a way of getting to him like no other woman ever had. Not something he wanted to admit even to himself, let alone her. But it was there. A niggling tug of desire that was damned hard to ignore. He stopped alongside her table, opened his mouth to speak and then slammed it shut again.

Beside her in the red vinyl booth, was a child’s booster seat. And in that seat was a baby girl. Jackson scowled as the infant—surely not even a year old yet—turned her face up to his and grinned, displaying two tiny white teeth.

And his eyes.

Tearing his gaze from the child, Jackson glared at Casey and ground out, “Just what the hell is going on?”

For just a moment, Casey wondered if Dani hadn’t been right. Maybe she should have just told him her news over the phone. At least then, she wouldn’t be faced with a tall, gorgeous furious male looking at her as if she’d dropped down from the moon.

Casey had watched him arrive. Watched him approach, in his thousand-dollar suit, looking as out of place at Drake’s as a picnic basket at a five-star restaurant. He’d obviously been out when she called. And she couldn’t help wondering who he’d been with.

Now, she stared up into his eyes—the same eyes she saw every morning when her daughter woke up to smile at her—and fought down the nerve-induced churning in the pit of her stomach. She’d known he’d be angry and she was prepared for that. Didn’t mean she had to like it.

Yes, she was doing the right thing. The only thing she could do, being the kind of person she was. But that didn’t mean she wanted to. Or that she was feeling at all easy about this confrontation.

She watched as he shifted his gaze from her to the baby and back again and felt his tension mount. She didn’t need to see it in the hard set of his broad shoulders or the tight clenching of his jaw. She could feel it, radiating out around him, like flames looking for fresh tinder.

And things were only going to get worse in the next few minutes.

“Why don’t you sit down, Jackson?” she finally said, waving one hand at the bench seat opposite her. Keep calm, she told herself. You’re two mature adults. This can be settled quickly and calmly.

As if he’d just remembered that they were in public, he grudgingly slid into the booth, braced his forearms on the table and glared at her.

Maybe not calmly. But at least he wasn’t willing to shout and argue in public. Precisely why she’d chosen Drake’s to let him in on her little secret. “Thanks for coming.”

“Oh, are we being polite now?” He shook his head and let his gaze slide to the baby, now happily gumming the corner of a teething biscuit.

Casey knew what he was seeing. A beautiful little girl with a thatch of dark brown curls and big brown eyes. Her cheeks were rosy from the nap she’d taken on the drive to the diner and her smile was wide and delighted with the world.

But Jackson didn’t look so delighted. He looked more like he’d been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Casey could hardly blame him for being shocked. Her daughter was the best thing that had ever happened to Casey. But Jackson was being slapped with a reality that she had been living with for nearly two years.

It was a lot to take in.

Especially for someone like him.

According to her very detailed research into his background, he was a womanizer. Hence her seduction routine at the bar a week ago. She’d known that he’d respond to her if she showed the slightest interest. It was what he did. He was a man who couldn’t make a commitment that lasted more than a few weeks. He was dedicated to his own pleasure and living his life unencumbered.

Not exactly prime father material.

When his gaze shifted back to hers, Casey stiffened. Accusation and reproach shone in his eyes and were very hard to miss.

“Since we’re being so very civil, you want to explain to me just what exactly is going on here?”

“That’s why I called you. To explain.”

“Start with how you got my cell number,” he said and nodded when a waitress approached with a pot of coffee. She deftly turned the cup over on its saucer, poured the coffee, then drifted away again at his dismissive glance.

“I called your office at the King airfield,” she said once they were alone again. “The recording on the answering machine listed your cell number for emergencies. I thought this qualified.”

He blew out a breath, took a sip of his coffee, then set the cup down gingerly, as if he didn’t trust himself not to throw it against a wall. “All right. Now, how about you explain the rest. Starting with your full name.”

“Casey Davis.”

“Where you from?”

“I live just outside Sacramento. A little town called Darby.”

He nodded. “Okay. Now, about…” He glanced at the baby again.

Casey inhaled deeply, hoping to settle the jangle of nerves rattling around inside her. She’d known this was going to be hard. She just hadn’t expected to feel almost mute when the time came for her to speak.

Clearing her throat, she told herself to just say it. So she reached over and smoothed her palm over the back of her daughter’s head. “This is Mia. She’s almost nine months old—” she paused to look deeply into his eyes “—and she’s your daughter.”

“I don’t have children.” His eyes narrowed until they were nothing more than slits with dark brown daggers shining through. After several long seconds ticked past, he finally said, “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, but it won’t work. I’ve never seen you before a week ago.”

“I know—”

He laughed shortly but there was no humor in the sound. The harsh overhead lights spilled down over him and weirdly cast his features more into shadow than illuminating them. “I came here wanting to find out who you were, why you slipped out on me and to find out if you were trying to set me up by getting pregnant deliberately…turns out you were way ahead of me.”

Casey straightened up, insulted to the bone. She was trying to do the right thing and he thought she’d— “I was doing no such thing.”

“You purposely set out to seduce me that night.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” she said reminding him easily that she hadn’t exactly kidnapped him, tied him to the bed and had her wicked way with him. But at the first memory of that night, her body stirred despite her best efforts.

“Not the point.” He waved one hand as if dismissing that argument. “You had an agenda and saw it through. What I want to know, is why?”

Picking up a napkin, she leaned over, wiped Mia’s mouth despite her daughter’s efforts to pull free. Then Casey looked at Jackson again. “I went there to get a sample of your DNA.”

He laughed again. Louder. Harsher. “You went a hell of a long way to collect it!”

She flushed and she knew it. She could feel heat staining her cheeks and hated the fact that she’d never been able to keep from doing that when she was embarrassed. Glancing around the diner, she made sure the other customers weren’t paying them the slightest bit of attention before she said in a vicious whisper, “I took strands of your hair. Remember when you kissed me—”

“You kissed me as I remember it,” he interrupted.

That’s right. She had. All part of the plan that had taken a seriously wrong turn almost instantly after her mouth had touched his. And there was the uncomfortable twist and burn inside her. “Fine. I kissed you. Remember I pulled on your hair?”

“Ah yes,” he said, leaning back into the seat and folding his arms over his chest. “You were feeling wild, you said.”

“Yes, well.” She shifted in her seat and wished she could get up and move around. She’d always thought better when she was walking. But she couldn’t very well spring out of the booth while Mia was there, strapped into a booster seat. “I needed a follicle of your hair so I could have it tested.”

“Why not simply ask?”

Now she laughed. “Sure. I’m going to go up to a strange man and ask for a sample of his DNA.”

“Instead, you went up to a strange man and kissed him?”

Frowning, she admitted, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And what about the rest of it?” he asked. “Was that part of your plan, too? Spend the night with me to what? Trap me into something somehow? Get me so wound up that neither one of us was considering any kind of protection?”

She cringed a little. She hadn’t even thought of protection that night. The way she remembered it, she’d been so hot, so needy, so completely over the edge with a kind of desire she’d never known before, the thought of condoms hadn’t even entered her head. And just how stupid was that?

“I didn’t plan any of that,” she said firmly. “The rest of that night just…happened.” Her gaze snapped to his. “And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to assure you that I’m perfectly healthy. I hope you can say the same.”

“Yes. I am.”

One worry taken care of, she told herself.

“That’s good.”

“And what about the other concern?” He asked the question slowly, as if judging her reaction.

“You mean pregnancy?”

He tipped his head toward Mia. “You seem to be fertile enough, it’s a reasonable question.”

“You don’t have to worry,” she told him. “The doctors say I would have a difficult time conceiving in the usual way.”

One dark eyebrow lifted and she squirmed a little. Her personal history was just that. Personal. It wasn’t something she discussed with just anyone.

“And yet…”

Again, he nodded toward Mia, gurgling and now slapping that teething biscuit against the tabletop.

“Look,” he said, capturing her attention again, “let’s leave everything else for the moment and go back to the real matter at hand.” He glanced at Mia and Casey wanted to hide her daughter from his appraising gaze. “You needed my DNA. Why? We’d never met. How could you think I’m the father of your child?”

More personal history that she would prefer not to discuss. Yet, she’d come here tonight because she’d felt she didn’t have a choice.

“Nearly two years ago,” she said, her voice low enough that no one could possibly overhear her, “I went to the Mandeville clinic…”

She saw understanding dawn on his features. His eyes opened, his firm mouth relaxed a little and his gaze, when it shifted to Mia, was this time, more stunned than angry or suspicious.

“The sperm bank,” he muttered.

“Yes.” Casey shifted in her seat a little, uncomfortable discussing this with anyone, let alone the “donor” who’d made her daughter’s birth possible.

He shook his head, scrubbed one hand across his face and said, “That’s just not possible.”

“Clearly,” she said, “it is.”

“No, you don’t understand.” His gaze locked on hers again, silently demanding an explanation for how this could have happened. “Yes, in college, I admit, I went to the clinic with a friend of mine. We’d lost a bet and—”

“A bet?”

He frowned at her. “Anyway, I went, made the donation and didn’t think about it again until about five years ago. I realized that I didn’t want a child of mine, unknown to me, growing up out there somewhere. I told them I wanted that sample destroyed.”

A chill swept through her at those words. She glanced at her daughter and as a wave of love rushed through her, she tried to imagine a life without Mia in it. And couldn’t. Somehow, through some bureaucratic mishap, Jackson’s order had gotten lost in the shuffle, overlooked and ignored. She could only be grateful. Knowing how close she’d come to never having Mia only made her treasure her daughter even more.

She smiled. “Well, I’m glad to say they didn’t do as you requested.”

“Obviously.”

It wasn’t hard to judge his current feelings. He was now avoiding looking at Mia at all. And that was fine with Casey. She didn’t want him interested in her daughter. Mia was hers. Her family. Casey was only here because she’d felt that Jackson had a right to know he had a child.

“I thought sperm banks were anonymous,” he said a moment later.

“They’re supposed to be.” When she’d gone to the Mandeville clinic, she’d specifically made sure that she would never know the identity of her child’s father. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, after all. She didn’t need a partner to help her raise a child. All she’d wanted was a baby to love. A family of her own.

When she was assured that their donors’ identities were very strictly protected, Casey’d been relieved. And that relief had stayed with her until about a month ago.

“I got an e-mail almost four weeks ago,” she said softly. “From the Mandeville clinic. It listed my name, the donor number I’d selected and identified you as the man who’d made the original deposit.”

He winced a little at that.

“Naturally, I was furious. This whole thing was supposed to be anonymous, remember. I called the clinic to complain,” she told him and with the memories flooding her mind, she felt again that helpless sense of betrayal she’d experienced when she first read that e-mail. “They were in a panic. It seems someone hacked into their computers and sent out dozens of e-mails to women identifying the fathers of their children. It wasn’t supposed to happen, of course, but it was too late to change anything.”

“I see.”

Two words, said so tightly it was a wonder he’d been able to squeeze them out of his throat. Well, fine. Casey understood that this was a surprise. But he had to understand that she wasn’t happy about this, either.

“I didn’t want to know the name of my daughter’s father,” she said firmly. “I wasn’t interested in the man then and I’m not interested now. I didn’t go to a sperm bank looking for a lasting connection, after all. All I wanted was a baby.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched and an emotional shutter was down over his eyes, preventing her from getting the slightest impression of what he was thinking. “And you found this out a month ago.”

“Yes.”

He tapped his fingertips against the table. “Why’d you wait so long to tell me?”

Though his tone was even, his voice quiet, Casey had no problem identifying the anger behind that statement.

She took a gulp of her now cold coffee and grimaced as it slid down her throat. “Frankly, I’d considered not telling you at all at first.”

His eyebrows arched.

“But soon enough, I realized you had the right to know if you actually were Mia’s father.”

“You doubted it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she countered. “Just because some hacker got into the clinic’s computer system doesn’t mean he did a good job of it.” Then she looked him straight in the eye. “Besides, you are definitely not the kind of father I wanted for my baby. When I went to Mandeville, I specifically requested the sperm of a scientist.”

For a second, insult flashed across his face, then he snorted a laugh again and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. “A scientist?”

“I wanted my child to be smart.”

He glared at her. “I graduated magna cum laude.”

“With a degree in partying? Or women?”

“I happen to have an MBA, not that it’s any of your business.”

She had already known that, thanks to her research, but the point was, she knew very well what Jackson King considered most important in his life. And it wasn’t intellectual pursuits.

“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” Casey said with a sigh. “I love my daughter and I don’t care who her father is.”

“Yet, as soon as you found out her father was Jackson King,” he countered, “you came to me. So what’s this little meeting really about?”

“I beg your pardon?” She sounded as stuffy as her late aunt Grace.

“You heard me, Casey Davis. You came here to present me with my daughter—”

“My daughter,” she corrected, wondering why this conversation was suddenly feeling like more than a verbal battle.

“So it makes a man wonder, just what it is you really want from me? Money?” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a black leather wallet. “How much are you after? Looking for some child support? Is that what this is about?”

“That is just typical,” she said, feeling a slow burn of anger start to build within. “Of course you think this is about money. That’s how you see the world, isn’t it? Well, I already told you, I don’t want anything from you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She hissed in a breath and devoutly wished she’d never told him about Mia. “You can think whatever you like. I can’t stop you. But I can leave. This little conversation is over.”

Turning in her seat, she unstrapped her baby from the booster chair, lifted Mia into her arms and cuddled her close as she scooted out of the booth. Feeling Mia’s warmth against her was a soothing balm to the anger churning inside her. It didn’t matter what Jackson King thought or did. She’d done the right thing, now she could put him behind her. She could concentrate on her daughter.

When she was standing, her purse hanging from her shoulder to slap against her jean-clad thigh, Casey looked down at Jackson. And this time there was pity in her eyes. Because he couldn’t grasp just how much he was missing, not knowing the child he’d helped create.

“I thought you had a right to know that you’d helped make this beautiful little girl possible, whether or not it was done willingly,” she said, disgust pumping into her words. “But I can see now that was a mistake. Don’t worry though, Jackson. Mia will never know that her father thought so little of her.”

“Is that right?” He smiled up at her, clearly believing her outrage just another part of the act. “What will you tell her about me?”

“I’ll tell her you’re dead,” Casey said quietly. “Because as far as I’m concerned, you are.”